Darcy rolled his eyes. “Of course I am eager. I have not seen Miss Elizabeth since yesterday.”
“You have not?” Fitzwilliam asked in surprise. “The beauties of the morning did not tempt you forth?”
Darcy glared at his cousin. He had no desire to speak of this in front of his younger sister. “Though Apollo and I engaged in our customary ride, we did not come across Miss Elizabeth and her maid,” he said, glancing down at Georgiana.
“Ah,” Fitzwilliam said lightly, his eyes promising further discussion of the subject.
Darcy gave a slight nod. Though questions clamoured through his mind like unruly hounds, he dared not voice any of them with Georgiana present. His uncle had implied difficulties; what else had occurred with Wickham that Fitzwilliam had not told him about? What about his aunt and uncle? What had they thought of Fitzwilliam’s description of Elizabeth, and why the devil had his cousin decided to tell them about her before they were engaged?
Fitzwilliam turned to Georgiana and began to speak teasingly of the trials he had endured in Hertfordshire watching a lovesick Darcy.
Darcy grumbled internally, but allowed his cousin to continue as Georgiana had lit up and was apparently no longer dwelling on her worries about meeting the Bennets.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Lady Matlock said as she and Lord Matlock entered the hall, pulling on her gloves.
“You, Madam,” Darcy said dryly.
Lady Matlock shook her head. “These young people do not respect their elders at all,” she told her husband severely, though Darcy could see a gleam of amusement in her eyes.
“Not at all, Mother, or else we would not have waited for you,” Fitzwilliam said with mock innocence.
Lady Matlock turned to her husband. “Do you think we made a grievous mistake in raising him or was it the nanny?”
Lord Matlock winked at Georgiana. “It must have been the nanny.”
“I believe our carriages await,” Bingley said from behind the couple, and all conversation was at an end while they embarked on the trip to the Bennets.
Chapter 47
Darcy gulped as the maid showed them to the sitting room. Once the door was open, there was no going back. If the Bennets and the Matlocks took a dislike to each other—which seemed highly likely, at least on the part of the Matlocks, the difficulties in his pursuit of Elizabeth would treble.
“Lord and Lady Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, and Mr. Bingley,” the maid announced.
Darcy’s eyes sought Elizabeth as he entered. She gave him a quizzical look as he tried to convey with a glance how unplanned this had all been.
“May I introduce the Bennets to you, Mother, Father?” Fitzwilliam said, jumping into the breach.
Lady Matlock nodded regally at each of them as her son performed the introductions.
As had been the norm since Miss Lydia’s misadventure, both she and Miss Kitty had remained above-stairs and Mr. Bennet had joined the group. Darcy wondered if the man was greatly missing his library. He half expected to be dragged up to said room before long, although their routine would perhaps vary with the arrival of his relatives. Bingley drew Miss Bennet into one corner of the room so that they could speak privately, causing Darcy to reflect that there were some benefits to having an acknowledged courtship.
“I am glad to see you have returned, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said. “I hope your visit to London was a profitable one?”
“Not as glad as I am to be returned to such congenial company,” Fitzwilliam said extravagantly. He smirked. “And it was very profitable.”
Another wave of worry swept over Darcy; Fitzwilliam was entirely too satisfied with Wickham’s disposition.
“Oh, yes, how can one not enjoy London?” Mrs. Bennet said in girlish tones. “Such a lovely city. Then again,” she glared at Darcy, “I am always glad to return to the country. We have such congenial people, as you pointed out,” she said to Fitzwilliam. “I am certain that I would be much less agreeable if I were always in the city. Perhaps that explains some people’s dispositions.”
Darcy suppressed a grimace. Despite his best efforts, he had failed to make inroads with Mrs. Bennet. The woman seemed determined to hold to her first estimation of him, and Darcy could not tell if it was due to her stubbornness or to the belief that he would not offer for one of her daughters, a situation that seemed to be a personal affront to the woman. Her stubbornness was one of the few similarities he had noticed between Elizabeth and her mother; perhaps, like Elizabeth, Mrs. Bennet would require time and an apology to warm up to him. On the other hand, if he proposed to Elizabeth and she accepted, he might catapult into her good graces at once.
“Did you have a good journey, Lady Matlock?” Elizabeth asked hurriedly.
Lady Matlock studied her. “As good as a journey can be, Miss Elizabeth. Though I appreciate the fruits of travel, I am afraid that I do not care for the motion of the carriage.”
“Mr. Darcy did not tell us that you intended to visit,” Elizabeth said, an edge to her voice.
“You must forgive my nephew, Miss Elizabeth,” Lady Matlock returned, “he was not aware of our coming until yesterday. Indeed, we could not help but accompany my son back when we heard of the pleasures of Hertfordshire.”
“Hertfordshire is a very pleasant place, your ladyship,” Mrs. Bennet said warmly.
“So it seems,” Lord Matlock put in.
“I have found it so,” Fitzwilliam said jovially. “And I know Darcy that has as well,” he added with a sideways glance at his cousin.
Darcy glowered at the man.
“Of course, some people have the disposition to be happy anywhere,” Mrs. Bennet turned to Lady Matlock, “a trait your son appears to share with Mr. Bingley. We are so glad that some people see the value of the country. Indeed, Mr. Bingley appears quite settled here.” She cast a significant glance towards where he sat chatting with Miss Bennet. “And I, for one, am very pleased. When he and my Jane are married, they shall be settled quite close. Something I am sure you can appreciate.”
“Indeed,” Lady Matlock said. “I often wish my sons were settled within an easier distance.”
Fitzwilliam grimaced.
Darcy studied his aunt, trying to determine if she was disgusted or merely bored with the conversation, but, try as he might to discern the meaning of her expression, no hint of her true feelings appeared.
“I expect you must be stationed in many different places, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, and nearly all of them far too close to the fighting,” Lord Matlock grumbled before Fitzwilliam could answer.
“Though I sympathise with your concern as a parent,” Mr. Bennet began, “I am glad that we have such excellent military men to manage Bonaparte.”
“True, true,” Lord Matlock agreed.
“Perhaps I might offer you gentlemen refreshments,” Mr. Bennet suggested. “Then we shall not bore the ladies with talk of politics.”
The men soon separated from the women, all except Bingley who had been allowed to remain with Miss Bennet. Darcy had considered staying with Elizabeth, but Mr. Bennet had motioned for him to join them; and the peace between them was so fragile that Darcy did not dare object, despite his desire to draw his beloved off into a corner of their own. His only consolation was that Elizabeth appeared to be having an enjoyable conversation with Georgiana and Miss Mary.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam is unmarried. What of your other sons? Are they also unmarried?” Mrs. Bennet’s strident tones rang out, a rapacious gleam in her eyes.
Darcy shuddered, hoping that Mrs. Bennet did not thoroughly destroy any support Lady Matlock might have given his marriage. He was not dependent on his aunt and uncle’s approval, he reminded himself. It would certainly be easier for him and Elizabeth should they choose to give approval and, as the Matlocks were the closest thing he had to parents, he wished for their approval, but it was not necessary.
“Maybe she’ll appeal
to Mother’s sense of humour,” Fitzwilliam whispered.
Darcy frowned. Lady Matlock was apt to find humour in much of the ton, however, her sons’ and nephew’s eventual marriages were not something she took lightly. He doubted any congeniality would last past Mrs. Bennet’s inquisition of Cousin Frederick’s matrimonial prospects.
“—eh, Darcy?” Lord Matlock prodded.
Realising that he was not attending, Darcy forced his mind back to the conversation at hand with a sigh.
Some twenty exhausting minutes later, they finally took their leave of the Bennets.
“I am reconsidering my stance,” Darcy murmured to Elizabeth as they made their farewells.
“On?” she asked with a smile.
“I do not believe that I can bear to continue on as we have been the past few days. At least Bingley is allowed to sit with Miss Bennet.”
“I know,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I miss you too. Perhaps you ought to suggest to Mr. Bingley that he invite us on a ramble.”
“I will,” he promised. “Or, if the weather will not cooperate, another ball may be necessary.”
“I know how much you love dancing,” Elizabeth said with an arch smile.
“Only with you.”
Mr. Bennet chose that moment to interrupt, and Darcy was once more shooed out the door without having spoken more than a few words to Elizabeth.
Lady Matlock insisted that Darcy accompany her and Lord Matlock in the carriage and directed Fitzwilliam to accompany Bingley and Georgiana.
“Well, Nephew, you have certainly chosen a spirited young woman to pursue,” Lady Matlock began the moment they were settled and on their way.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed, wondering when and how his aunt had come to that conclusion.
“What makes you think she is any better than Miss Montrose or Cecilia Stone’s daughter?” she asked, referencing her two favourite debutantes from the previous Season.
“Other than her lack of insipidity?” Darcy asked sardonically.
“Don’t be disrespectful! I am giving you the opportunity to explain—you ought not to throw it away. Her family, her lack of fortune . . . though she has a pleasing figure, it is nothing out of the ordinary. You know that such a choice would bring—”
“Dishonour on the Darcy and Fitzwilliam names,” Darcy finished.
“I was going to say that it will bring many questions,” his aunt said with a glare. “You are as bad as Richard for interrupting a body! Now, you know that you are quite the catch. Many mothers will not be happy to see you have chosen a woman from outside the ton.”
Darcy grimaced. “Aunt, I have never been interested in the women of the ton.”
“A fact of which I am well aware. Heaven knows how many young women I have brought to your attention only to see them utterly ignored. What is it about Miss Elizabeth that has caught your fancy?”
Darcy sat up straighter. “She has not ‘caught my fancy,’ ” he said severely. “I love her, and I intend to marry her.”
“Darcy, m’boy, you know that men of your station do not marry women like Miss Elizabeth,” Lord Matlock said.
“I am aware of that fact, however, Miss Elizabeth will make a better Mrs. Darcy than any woman I have ever met. She is kind and compassionate. She cares about Longbourn’s tenants and is accustomed to the duties of a mistress, though on a much smaller scale. Not only is she knowledgeable in the area of estate duties, but she is versed in Latin and the classics.” He smiled. “She is just as capable of holding a debate on the merits of Plato’s Republic as she is at seeing to the tenants.”
“But she is not skilled at the usual accomplishments,” Lady Matlock put in. “Mrs. Bennet said that Miss Mary is her most accomplished daughter, though she did not seem to think accomplishments a worthwhile pursuit.” Lady Matlock’s mouth twisted as though she had just tasted something unpleasant. “Apparently, Miss Elizabeth can neither paint nor draw, nor is she proficient in music.”
“That is true, although I will beg you to defer your assessment of her musical abilities until such a time as you can hear her play.”
“Oh?”
Darcy’s smile grew in fond remembrance. “She is not technically proficient, however, she plays with a great deal of feeling. I have rarely had such pleasure in music—save, of course, for Georgiana’s playing.”
“I believe you are somewhat biased,” Lady Matlock said dryly.
“I do not deny it. Listen to her music before you judge though.”
Lord Matlock put a hand on his wife’s arm when she appeared about to object. “You may as well, Lottie—no point in arguing about something you haven’t heard yet.”
Lady Matlock glared at her husband. “Regardless,” she said, returning her piercing gaze to Darcy, “she will not be able to measure up to the standards of the ton, which will bring unwelcome comments, perhaps even disgrace to the Fitzwilliam and Darcy names.”
“I do not want a woman who is versed in drawing and painting and whatever else but who cannot hold an intelligent conversation,” Darcy said passionately. “I need a wife who can help Pemberley thrive. I need a wife who will care about those we are responsible for as much as I do. I need someone I can trust.” He took a deep breath. “And both Georgiana and I need someone who will bring life back to Pemberley. Miss Elizabeth has taught me to laugh again.”
Lady Matlock sighed. “Though those are admirable desires, I am certain such a woman may be found among the ton. It is not necessary to look outside of our circle. You are a Fitzwilliam,” she said severely.
Darcy scoffed, and Lady Matlock’s eyes widened. “You speak as though I have not looked for such a person,” he said, “but I have. I may not have accepted your suggestions, but I have paid attention to the conversations I have had with your favourites, and not one of them has shown even an ounce of the qualities Miss Elizabeth possesses in overflowing measure.”
Lady Matlock exchanged a glance with Lord Matlock.
“M’boy, it’s not that we don’t trust your judgment, but you must realise how irregular this is,” Lord Matlock said. “Their estate is not remotely comparable to Pemberley or even any of the smaller estates I own. Not to mention that it is entailed.”
“I am aware of that fact, but few can compare to Pemberley, and I am not lacking in funds.”
“True, true. And what of Catherine?”
Lady Matlock raised her eyes heavenward. “Please, Rupert, do not even dignify that woman’s pretensions by bringing them up,” she said in long-suffering tones.
“I am aware of your feelings on the subject, my love, but you must see that Catherine can make things very uncomfortable for Darcy if he has agreed to marry Anne.”
Darcy drew himself up. “I have never agreed to marry Anne,” he said in clipped tones.
“What did I tell you?” Lady Matlock crowed to her husband.
“Yes, yes, I never disagreed with you. I said if he had agreed.”
“Though my mother may have wished for such a union since my birth, she never spoke of it to me and, as such, I do not feel bound by those wishes if they did indeed exist.”
“I doubt your mother would have expressed any such preference,” Lady Matlock said with a sniff. “It is far more likely that she simply did not immediately correct whatever nonsensical scheme Catherine proposed.”
“Regardless, Aunt Catherine has no cause to complain of unfaithfulness if I marry elsewhere,” Darcy said stiffly.
“I should hope not,” Lady Matlock snapped. “But that does not address the fact that, regardless of how pleasant Miss Elizabeth is, a good disposition does not a good marriage make. Nephew—”
“Let me ask you this, Aunt, would you prefer that I leave Pemberley to Georgiana?”
“There is no need for such dramatics,” Lady Matlock chided. “I sympathise with your desire to find a woman who can fulfil the qualifications you have mentioned, but many men have been content in their marriages when—”
“Content?” Darcy
thundered incredulously. “Aunt, be serious. How can I settle for mere contentment when I have you and Uncle as an example, or my own parents’ example, before me?”
“Darcy, you know that our parents arranged the marriage with Lottie and myself,” Lord Matlock began. “Yes, we have grown to love one another, but it was not always so.”
Lady Matlock sniffed. “I should say not.” Her lips quirked up in a smile. “It took some time before he was able to admit the justice of my opinions. He actually believed women lacked brains! Although with Catherine as a sister . . . .”
Lord Matlock shook his head. “You speak as though I was a ninny for years on end, Lottie! I doubt it was more than six months.”
Lady Matlock speared him with a look.
Her well-taught husband cleared his throat and returned his attention to Darcy. “Regardless, we did not make a love match. Just because you believe yourself in love with this woman does not mean you ought to marry her.”
Darcy shook his head. “You do not understand. I am not just in love with her; I am a better person with her. Miss Elizabeth has always required the best of me. She does not let my status or money get in the way of seeing me—the man I am.”
“If you would converse with the young ladies of the ton rather than merely sulking in a corner at every ball, you would be far more likely to find someone who possesses those same qualities,” Lady Matlock said tartly.
Darcy chuckled. “That is just something Miss Elizabeth would say.” He held his aunt’s gaze, willing her to understand. “Don’t you see: all those ladies of the ton are content to let me behave poorly; I slighted Miss Elizabeth on our first meeting and she did not accept such poor behaviour, regardless of the detriment to her should I have chosen to ruin her socially.”
His aunt sighed. “Yes, yes, she is wise and brave—if I had wanted a paean to her gifts, I would have asked for it. Darcy, she seems like a lovely young woman, and I would not object to Georgiana forming a friendship with her, but you cannot seriously intend to marry her.”
Lord Matlock put a hand on her arm. “Your aunt is right, Darcy. You owe your family name more than that—both the Fitzwilliam and Darcy names. Though your parents are absent, I believe they too would tell you that duty must come first.”
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 51
